


Apologies by AngelLover89

by GO_Library_archivist



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Deathfic, Gen, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GO_Library_archivist/pseuds/GO_Library_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A heated argument separates the pair for fourteen years. Crowley finally decides to get his act together in a way Aziraphale never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from [Quantum_Witch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantum_Witch/profile): this story was originally archived at [The Good Omens Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Good_Omens_Library), which I maintained for eight years until I closed it due to lack of funds and decreased usership. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing the GOL's stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in July 2013. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Good Omens Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/TheGoodOmensLibrary/profile), or through the [GO_Library_archivist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GO_Library_archivist/profile) account.

Apologies by AngelLover89

Summary: A heated argument separates the pair for fourteen years. Crowley finally decides to get his act together in a way Aziraphale never expected.  
Categories: General Fanfic Characters:  Aziraphale, Crowley  
Genres:  Angst, Tragedy/Deathfic  
Warnings:  Character Death, Angst (mild)  
Chapters:  3 Completed: No  
Word count: 1721 Read: 1125  
Published: 08 Mar 2009 Updated: 08 Mar 2009

 

* * *

 

Story Notes:

This is one version of a C/A fanfiction. Alternate version + continuing chapters of said alternate version will follow.

* * *

 

Chapter 1, Alternate Ending by AngelLover89

 

"Hey," said a familiar voice. Aziraphale looked up to see a folded piece of paper in a familiar pale palm. "You dropped this."

"Oh." An awkward silendce followed as Aziraphale took the paper.

Silver glittered around Crowley's wrist. Aziraphale glanced at the strip of etched silver -- a soul-bind, he saw with some mild alarm -- then up at Crowley, who was carefully scrutiinizing the angel's face. Memorizing every inch, every nuance of it.

"Crowley--" said the angel after a moment, but Crowley was already walking away, one last drop of salty sorrow tracing a line down his pale face, unseen by the angel he had never meant to hurt.

"...be careful..." Aziraphale murmured as the door shut after Crowley.

There was something about this Aziraphale didn't like. It made him uneasy. Had he looked on more than the first plane, he would have seen something dark and truly troubling in Crowley's aura.

He read the paper.

A horrible light went off in his mind.

The soul-bind--

The note--

The argument--

Aziraphale bolted for the door.

 

 

He's not going to come, said a nasty little voice inside Crowley's head. You might as well do it now. You fucked up big time, so all the better to pay up sooner rather than later.

But I wrote--

That doesn't mean jack shit and you know it. You pissed him off so bad he left the fuckin country, for cryin' out loud. You really think he's going to give a shit about you and your pathetic little life after fourteen years? For all you know he could have been nurturing those feelings, all ready to come and bust out some Divine Judgment on your snaky little ass.

With shaking heart, Crowley acknowledged this cruel, cold truth.

With shaking hands, he retrieved the gun from his safe.

Cradled its lethal form.

Sank to the floor with his back against the wall.

And wept bitterly, the hate and remorse rushing through him so hard and fast, self-flagellation suddenly making him grieve with such force he was choking, almost vomiting with the intensity.

He mourned for two full hours.

Then, fully spent, he straightened his back against the wall.

Put the loaded weapon in his mouth.

Aziraphale arrived just in time to hear the report of the bullet. It seemed to tear through his own heart as well.

He was still mourning over Crowley's fallen figure several hours later.

 

 

End Notes:

This is just one ending. If you want to see Crowley *not* die, continue to the next version and the following chapters. :)

 

 

* * *

  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://library.good-omens.net/viewstory.php?sid=421>


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heated argument separates the pair for fourteen years. Crowley finally decides to get his act together in a way Aziraphale never expected.

  
[Apologies](viewstory.php?sid=421) by [AngelLover89](viewuser.php?uid=148)  


  
Summary: A heated argument separates the pair for fourteen years. Crowley finally decides to get his act together in a way Aziraphale never expected.  
Categories: [General Fanfic](browse.php?type=categories&catid=1) Characters:  Aziraphale, Crowley  
Genres:  Angst, Tragedy/Deathfic  
Warnings:  Character Death, Angst (mild)  
Challenges:  
Series: None  
Chapters:  3 Completed: No   
Word count: 1721 Read: 1125  
Published: 08 Mar 2009 Updated: 08 Mar 2009 

Chapter 3, The Prequel and Background by AngelLover89

Author's Notes:

**So all of you are wondering Why is Crowley trying to commit suicide? This is where we get the background information.**

Fourteen years.

Fourteen long, agonizing years.

He didn't know he could feel guilt, and its crushing jaws ate away at him relentlessly, day after day. He could not sleep, for the nightmares had returned with the angel's absence; the empty side of the bed he was forced to stare at beat even at closed eyelids with mocking, intangible fists that Crowley hated nonetheless.

For weeks he agonized over the necessary course of action. Though Aziraphale had not denied Crowley's statement about angels and ineffable mercy, he was still a demon, and could not picture himself -- he couldn't even think the word correctly -- apologizing to the ethereal being.

And yet--perhaps in the infinitesimally small part of him that Aziraphale had restored to good nature--he didn't know who the fuck he was trying to fool if he said he didn't miss the angel.

How had Aziraphale grown so much on him? Angels and demons were supposed to be locked in some big eternal battle against each other, weren't they?

It had all started with the Agreement, Crowley reflected morosely, nursing a pint of rum on the couch in his flat. The Agreement they'd founded when the two discovered more in common with each other than their own distant superiors. The Agreement that basically said they'd meet and share notes over lunch or some such occasion, comparing deeds and names, conveniently conversing with their respective adversary while being able to maintain a front of informing their superiors of significant strides made against their opposing numbers.

Some otherworldly force, moving inexorably, slowly, and unseen, had woven the fate strings of the two beings ever closer together, and they found themselves in each other's company more and more often. The angel never objected, and Crowley certainly didn't mind either.

Then, one stormy evening about two hundred years ago, Aziraphale had unexpectedly appeared at Crowley's doorstep, toting a bookbag full of toiletries at his side and a shy, sheepish expression beneath his sopping golden curls. Apparently the store next to his bookshop had gotten infested with termites, and now both shops were being exterminated. Aziraphale had professed his lack of other places to go, and it was raining besides, and would it be too much trouble if he, er, took up residence for the night on his couch?

Something had stirred deep within the demon's belly that night as he stood aside and admitted the angel into his flat, moving in depths Crowley didn't even know he had* *[and probably still didn't].

They'd ended up getting completely tanked, and somehow both ended up in Crowley's luxurious bed.

The demon didn't sleep much until he drew closer to Aziraphale; nightmares of Hell screamed at him from the dark depths of slumber, so he strove to avoid it, regardless of how great waking up made him feel.

With the angel, the nightmares were suddenly and fully derailed. Crowley remembered the presence of a cooling hand on his forehead, which extinguished the fires meant for him in his dream, and silenced even the worst of the voices screaming eternal damnation, clamoring with the sound of a thousand nails raking on a blackboard. He remembered an ethereal, soothing voice float to him through the dim smoky haze of his tormented mind, cutting through the fog easily and nestling around his brain in silky reassurance.

Where it really started, he supposed, was that night. Fate had pulled their strings the slightest bit tighter around each other.

Aziraphale didn't leave for two more days, and, when you got right down to it, they were the best days Crowley had had in a long while. They'd discussed lengthy topics like Free Will versus Destiny, danced around theology, had dined on the balcony of Crowley's flat at sunset with a bottle of wine, and nervously took their new-found relationship further. After dinner, Fate yanked hard on their two strands, crossing them firmly, and began to braid them together.

Had he gone mad? Crowley asked himself that night. What did he care if he tempted an angel to Fall?

But he did, and made sure Aziraphale would not be punished for what followed.

Suddenly it hit him like a sack of bricks. The thought had stayed silent and unseen at first, lurking in the far, cobwebbed corners of the demon's mind. Each moment with the angel slowly coaxed it out of hiding; each glance, each meeting of gazes tugged on it inexorably--ineffably--until finally, now, he understood a fraction of the reason behind the unheard-of admiration of the angel.

Aziraphale just might be the key to his redemption.

Once the angel had opened the door to his soul, Crowley had caught sight of something beautiful and reverent in its holiness. For once, he had not shied away from the Principality's aura; instead, he had drawn himself closer to it, perhaps hoping for one small spark of righteousness to ignite and dissipate the cruel darkness of his own essence.

And then Crowley was struck by a thought so hideous and horrible it slashed straight through his drunken haze and electrified every last one of his nerves.

Aziraphale had not just shut the door of Crowley's flat fourteen years ago.

He had also shut and securely locked the door to his being, locking Crowley out, possibly forever. To know that he had come so close to the possibility of redemption, to know that it had been within the grasp of his tentative fingers that were subconsciously calling out for it, and then to have it ripped away before his eyes, was almost unbearable.

Crowley sat up. That was it, then.

There was only one thing he could do.

Moments later a vintage black 1926 Bentley tore black rubber screeching across the city to a certain bookshop in Soho.

  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://library.good-omens.net/viewstory.php?sid=421>  


**Author's Note:**

> **From GO Library Archivist (to earlier readers):  
>  I have removed what appears to be a duplicate chapter from this story. As far as I know, there were only ever two chapters. Even if there were more, the original version of the story disappeared from the internet long ago and, to the best of my knowledge, so did the author. I have been unable to find another copy anywhere out there, so I have to be content with what is archived.**


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